Post 56- Progress has been made! I-WORLD IS COMING.

These are some new poems I've written, everyone. There were more, but they were too experimental in structure to even type up. SO. Enjoy these! And I'm terribly sorry it took so long. Sometimes you have to just wait for the inspiration to start writing.

Once I finally decided to sit down and actually 

write something 

I was confused at the new list of 

priorities 

my life had established to far remove the pleasure of creativity and instead 

convert

 its entirety to a sort of 'dish-washing' chore, 

but moreso it was that that idea itself was merely a fabrication, 

because all I wanted was to sit inside and dream. 

Why do we torment ourselves?

Where

                    I

                                                                                                    Am over there

                                                                                                    Perched neatly above

            Flower Petals

                                  and

         Cherry Blossoms.

                                                                                                                 Because I want to be.

There isn't much to actually starting a journey

Seeing as how we're all one existential example

But are we supposed to love life along the way?

"All about the journey" but scared little girls

And bullied teens won't agree

The definitional phrasing seems to be independent

Of subject or context and more akin to

A sublimation of perception.

C'est La Vie.

So it goes.

Every student that walks by keeps 

OgGlinG

At my pages as if I'm

(hiding something)

Or about to REVEAL who they are.

I wish they were more concerned about the

Sustainibility-y-y-y-y-y-y

Of noiseless shoes

That keep interrupting my simple scrawls

By thwomping or scuffling over the stairs.

But next they'll be complaining about how

I rap my knuckles when in thought

And we can't have that, or society will surely buckle.

I

Must write more poetry

Who is I?

Why do we make him write more

God-Forsaken

poetry...

                              There's plenty

                                                                                                POETRY

 P                               Of Poetry

oe                                                                         Poetry                     look here! more poetry!

try                                                                          poetry

But perhaps it's just

He who has to do it.

I think it's funny how words themselves paint

a picture in that clouded

vestigial

membrane

called the MIND

that's neither here, nor there.

To think that little spark of neurons going on

Right now

Popping off one by one

Is literally just a brain-gasm

As you connect bits and pieces together like

So many jigsaws gnarling oaken branches.

And when something doesn't make sense it clutters

And sp-p-p-utterrssss

For a second

Before some little thought

Fixes it, changes the oil, 

And sends it on its way.

Carting the mail of afterthought.

Some thoughts.

Rukeyser's Roads...

What sort of country do the 'roads' in

'Well Then There Now' represent or portray?

A                    twisting, winding, boldly defining but carefully depicted and fragmented visionary piece of our             emotionally charged and altogether explanatory everyday.

Or that's how it seemed to me.

A                    sensory experiment in combination of syntactical revelation and their dictionated counterparts all in lieu with one another, one driving the van

the other tossing the money next to the spare.

In truth the precise nature of an entire country

(through her work)

seems more related to the individual's flavoring,

their hypersensitive tuning to the smallest of details

in every place they've gone. What we get is that the

system is overly complex.